


you can lie to Batman but you can't lie to yourself

by icarusinflight



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: But it's okay, Jaytim secret santa 2017, M/M, Tim gets hurt, it just makes him think about some stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-19 23:31:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13134474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/pseuds/icarusinflight
Summary: “I mean sure Timbo, if you wanna make a big deal about having emergency surgery due to a gunshot wound – fine, but keep in mind some of us have actually died.”Tim huffs a laugh. Laughing is a terrible move though – pain shoots through his right side and he quickly grabs his side applying pressure on the location in a futile attempt to stop the pain.Jason winces sympathetically.“Okay, so I’m gonna hold off on being my usual hilarious self.” Jason says, the concern on his face evident.





	you can lie to Batman but you can't lie to yourself

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [holy-raised-in-da-north-batman](https://holy-raised-in-da-north-batman.tumblr.com) for the Jaytim Secret Santa Exchange.  
> I tried to work in a couple of your requests - I hope you like it!  
> Unbeta'd all errors are my own. First time writing Jaytim as well, so I hope this is in character. I tried!

 

“I mean sure Timbo, if you wanna make a big deal about having emergency surgery due to a gunshot wound – fine, but keep in mind some of us have actually died.”

Tim huffs a laugh. Laughing is a terrible move though – pain shoots through his right side and he quickly grabs his side applying pressure on the location in a futile attempt to stop the pain.

Jason winces sympathetically.

“Okay, so I’m gonna hold off on being my usual hilarious self,” Jason says, the concern on his face evident.

“Oh no,” Tim says, and every word hurts his side – gives a painful tug at the surgery wound he knows is there – even though he hasn’t seen it yet. He continues on nonetheless, “Whatever will I do without your witty comments?”

He takes another breath – careful to inhale shallowly and slowly – so as to disturb his stitches as little as possible. At his request they’d reduced his pain medicine - he’d been hoping to feel a little less out of it, but his brain still feels foggy, and all it’s achieved is that he can feel the wound acutely with every movement. He tries to make the next words sound steady enough to pass for deadpan. “Surely, it’s a fate worse than death.”

That earns him a smile at least, even if it doesn’t quite reach Jason’s eyes – the smile is probably only for his benefit – but he appreciates it still.

“I think the drugs are making you grumpy Timbo. Or maybe you just need a nap. Young kids like you get grumpy when you miss your naps.”

“Shut up old man,” TIm retorts, the familiar comeback falling from his lips almost without a thought.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jason waves his hand in dismissal – as if he were actually waving the words away with the movement. He gives Tim another look over, eyes drifting from Tim’s face to his hands still holding his wound, to the thin hospital blanket draped over him. He leans back into the chair – the noise of the chair creaking beneath the shift of weight filling the room. He closes his eyes before saying, “You really should sleep though.”

Tim’s breathe catches watching Jason relax – or at least pretend to do so. He looks so much more relaxed – even if it is all just for show. Tim’s hand twitches as he tries to suppress a movement, possibly to grab Jason, to disagree, or something else that he can’t quite pick in his drug-influenced state.

Jason opens his eyes again – pinning Tim with his gaze. “I’ll be on watch. No one will get in baby bird.”

Part of him hates that he’s been so transparent. He can lie to Batman  _ dammit. _ But Jason isn’t Batman. Jason can see through him when no one else can.

He tries not to think about why that might be.

Tim considers denying it for a second – telling Jason that he doesn’t need him standing watch – but when Tim considers it he realises that he doesn’t actually want to be alone. He thinks Jason probably doesn’t want to be alone either, but just like Tim, he’d never say it.

“Thanks.” He says instead of mentioning any of that though. He would normally have his emotions far more under control – could compartilise them better and ignore them completely – but he's not far gone enough to actually do something as ludicrous as  _ bring them up _ . “Do you need me to ask the nurses to bring in a cot? They would for the renown Timothy Drake Wayne you know.”

“Nah.” Jason dismisses, “This chair is plenty comfortable. I’ve slept worse places.”

_ I’m sure you have _ – the words flash through his mind before he can stop them, and he bites his tongue to keep from blurting them. It’s a sensitive topic – and while Jason will tease at it, joke and wave it off, Tim knows that it still hurts. These wounds run deep – there’s no surgery available to heal them. Tim would rather take another gunshot to the abdomen than cause Jason pain – of any kind – and especially anything related to his past.

Even if he's feeling fuzzy, he still knows that.

_ You could move onto the bed _ he thinks. At least the bed is more comfortable than the chair – couldn’t be worse than the safehouse mattresses they’ve slept on either.

It isn’t until he looks at Jason and sees the looks he’s shooting that he realizes he must have said the words out loud.

_ Fucking drugs. _

Jason will never move to the bed – he never would have suggested it if he was in his right mind but these  _ fucking drugs _ . 

Jason barely likes to share a bed when they sleep together. He’ll move to the edge of the bed, and on more than one occasion Tim has found Jason sleeping on the floor when he’s got up to piss. 

“Nah,” Jason replies – exactly as he’d expected. “Hospital beds are for sick and recovering people Timbo. Besides – wouldn’t want to risk damaging your wound.”

He feels a ridiculous flash of disappointment – he hadn’t even intended to offer that – it’s stupid that he should feel disappointed. He tries to shove the feeling down, but judging by the wary look Jason gives him he’s not as successful at that as he’d like.

“You’re right.” He acknowledges, accepting the words as he says them. “I’m gonna try and get some sleep.”

Looking away from Jason he grabs for the bed controls; he adjusts the bed to a resting position – not quite flat, but close enough. The bed's too hard, there are too many pillows, the sheet and blankets feel rough, and it’s all just  _ wrong _ . This isn’t the first time he’s slept in a foreign bed - or a hospital bed for that matter, so he burrows down into the bed, closes his eyes, and hopes that the combination of fatigue and drugs will take him under.

The rustle of noise warns him of Jason’s approach – and his eyes shoot open to see Jason standing by the bed again, Jason reaches out to place a hand against his shoulder – and Tim can feel the heat of his hand through the thin hospital gown. For a second when he looks up at Jason he see concern and affection – but it’s gone just as quickly and Tim thinks he might have imagined it – or it could be a drug-induced hallucination.

“Rest up,” Jason says, before dropping a kiss on Tim’s forehead.

Tim blinks up at him for a moment – and then Jason is gone from his view while Tim is still blinking up at where Jason was – can still feel the warmth from Jason’s hand and Jason’s lips. Tim hears the squeak of the chair as Jason resettles in the cheap chair.  _ For the amount they charge they could at least provide some decent chairs _ Tim thinks. Not that it probably matters – maybe it’s better that it’s not comfortable – the discomfort providing a perverse sense of comfort when waiting for a loved one.

_ Waiting for a loved one  _ – the words echo around in his head as soon as they pop into it. Is that what he is to Jason? It’s not something they’ve said to each other before.

He closes his eyes again, willing himself to just _rest_. But now that he’s had the thought it keeps running around his head.  _ Does he love Jason?  _ He thinks the words over, like he would a puzzle. It feels like he’s spent half his life chasing after Jason. He remembers a boy in an alleyway once – someone he ran into once when chasing after Bruce and Dick. He remembers after that, following after Jason when he was Robin. Then when he’d followed in Jason’s footsteps as Robin.

He’d followed behind Jason for so many years. He’d looked up to Jason, and when Jason has called him  _ replacement _ it had hurt because that’s all he had ever felt like – it’s what he’d marketed himself as to Bruce when he’d gone to him begging to be Robin. 

It took him a long time to feel like he was anything but – not helped by his own outing from the Robin mantle. Ironically taking on the Red Robin mantle – another of Jason’s aliases had helped him come to term with his own place in the Batclan. Red Robin is  _ his _ now. Just as Red Hood is Jason’s.

All of which is distracting from his original question. It’s a problem Tim has sometimes – drifting off topic. He finds a thread and follows it. It can make him a great detective, but it also means a simple research task can him down a rabbit hole – or multiple rabbit holes. 

_ Does he love Jason?  _

_ Does Jason Love him? _

There are definitely feelings involved from Tim’s end – he’s not sure he’d call it love. But he’s not sure if he has enough experience to recognise if it were. He didn’t love Ariana – he’s confident with that. He loves Stephanie  _ now _ . He knows that. He thinks he loved her then as well. But his past relationship might not be the best benchmark for a current one. They were always off balance – Tim had known so much more about Steph than she’d known about them. 

Thinking now though – it’s a little creepy to consider the similarities between Steph and Jason. Too creepy, and more than a little unsettling. He quickly dismisses the line of thought.

_ Does he love Jason? _

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t have enough evidence to say.

He also doesn’t know how to go about collecting the evidence. 

But he’s a damn good detective. He can do this.

He’s already making a plan of attack when he finally succumbs to the fatigue, drifting away to sleep as the thoughts run around his head.

* * *

 

Jason isn’t there when he’s discharged. Dick and Alfred organise to be there when he’s discharged and accompany him back to his apartment. 

Alfred had offered for Tim to move back in while he was recuperating  – but Tim had turned that idea down. He’s an adult now – and he’s been living on his own since his emancipation went through anyway. He doesn’t need to move back home over a little bullet wound, and he doesn’t want to trouble Alfred. Besides – he’s recovering, not an invalid.

There’s also the niggling thought that Jason would never visit him if he was recovering at the  Manor. That’s not why – it’s definitely not what sways his decisio n – but Tim can’t deny that fact that it crosses his mind.

Of course, Alfred still goes above and beyond, leaving behind food, drugs, and instructions to call him if Tim needed anything. Dick’s determined to stay with him for the first night at least. Tim can’t deny it’s kind of nice to not be alone, and with the bonus of actually getting to see Dick. They’re both usually so busy they rarely get to see each other but Tim  _ misses  _ Dick. It’s enough just having him round  – pottering around the house, getting Tim everything he could possibly need, pillows, a blanket, orange juice and water. When he’s satisfied that Tim has everything he could need he swipes the remote to go through Tim’s netflix. Tim leaves him to it, looking around his apartment and thankful that he’s finally home again.

His attention is dragged back to the attention by the little squeal of excitement Dick releases, and when he turns his attention back to Dick he has his excited grin on  – then one that’s not attractive at all but is genuine. Tim can’t help but echo it back, even knowing that he’ll most likely be subjected to one of the terrible movies Dick loves.  Dick has objectively terrible taste in movies – even Damian agrees. 

When the movie does finally start, it’s not the trash he was expecting, instead it’s Mulan. Mulan is one of the rare movies that everyone in the Batclan can agree is a good movie. It’s a safe choice and a good one.

Except for today he can’t focus on the movie. His mind is consumed with his question – with his yet-to-be-named plan – he needs a name for the plan. Tim watches as Mulan has her hair pulled, and goes to the matchmaker to find a husband. The movie isn’t helping to take his mind off his own relationship issues. He still can’t think of anything except  _ what is Jason to him _ .

It’s another thing that makes Tim a good detective. Once he’s on a trail he’s dedicated to it. He decides to just bite the bullet and go for it.

“Dick, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course!” Dick says, shooting Tim a smile before turning his gaze back to the TV, “ask away Little T.”

“Umm, okay, yeah, well, I was wondering – you loved Koriand’r didn’t you?” He kicks himself for the uncertainty in his voice. He’s interrogated mass murderers and psychopaths. This is just Dick. He shouldn’t be tripping over his words like this. But it’s unknown territory. He knows Dick and Kori used to date, but he never saw them together. Tim can’t imagine a world where they were dating and Dick didn’t love Kori.

Dick turns to look at him, but Tim ignores the pull to meet his gaze, his own eyes locked onto the screen – Mulan is suddenly very interesting. 

“Yeah I did,” Dick agrees easily.

Tim take a deep breath, before asking the question he really wants to know the answer to. “When did you know? How did you know?”

He’s still got his eyes locked on the screen, watching Mulan, but he still sees as Dick leans in towards him and ruffles his hair.

“Awww Little T. Are you in luuurve,” Dick teases.

Tim finally looks to Dick, swiping his hand away and glaring at Dick. The movement pulls at his stitches, he focuses that pain into the glare he’s sending Dick’s way, trying to not give away the pain he’s felt. “Shut up. I hate you sometimes. Can’t you just answer the question?”

Dick leans back against the couch, looking for all intents and purposes like the cat that got the cream. Dick is so annoying sometimes.

“How did you know?” Tim repeats, trying to get back to the question he wants answered.

Dick sighs, rubbing his right thumb over the calluses on his left hand. Dick still does a lot of gymnastics training in his spare time – he still has gymnast's hands. It’s something he knows Bruce frowns upon, Dick’s hurt his hands in training before – which  _ could jeopardise your identity _ – but Dick ignores Bruce’s complaints, strapping his hands as required.

“It wasn’t one thing Tim.”

“Okay but,” Tim insists, “you must have realised. There must have been a moment when you knew.”

“The first time I knew for sure – Kori was telling me about a ritual they completed on her planet for good luck. I didn’t really understand, but she cared about it so much. I just remember watching her as she told me… and I knew.” Dick looks wistful. He’s still looking at Tim, but Tim doesn’t think he's actually seeing Tim. “I didn’t tell her for a while longer though. But that was when I knew.”

Tim nods. 

“So is there someone?” Dick asks, shooting Tim a sly smile.

Tim thinks about the question. He takes a sip of orange juice to delay his response. It’s an obvious play for time – Dick will know he’s doing it – but he’s also nice enough to let it slide. As he sips, he thinks about his options for responding. It’s obvious that there is, but he could deny it now, try to pretend like he was just curious. But Dick might not be Bruce, but he’s still a damn good detective. 

“Yes,” Tim answers eventually. The words feel inadequate for the time he took to say them, but the words mean so much.

“Okay,” Dick says easily, a smile on his face, “and do you think you might love this person?”

Which is not the question that Tim wants to hear. He closes his eyes, blocking out the movie, blocking out Dick, blocking out the pressure he felt under Dick’s careful watch.

“I don’t know.” He answers truthfully.

“That’s okay,” Dick says, his voice soft, soothing. “You don’t need to know, not now, not ever. If anyone tells you otherwise tell them to fuck off.”

“No one’s pressuring me,” Tim reassures Dick. It’s mostly true, no one is pressuring him except himself. 

“That’s good. If they do you point me in their direction and I’ll sort them out.”

That is an entirely terrible idea. Jason and Dick have been – well, not getting along – but not fighting of late. He’d rather try and keep the peace. He doesn’t even want to think about Dick – or fuck  _ Bruce _ – finding out about them.

Besides–

“I can defend myself,” TIm says, opening his eyes to glare at Dick.

Dick shoots him a goofy grin. “I know that. But you should let me be the big brother sometime. None of you ever let me be the big brother,” Dick pouts.

“You’re ridiculous,” Tim informs him.

“Of course I’m ri-Dick-ulous Timbo. It’s in the name.”

“Ughhhh,” Tim groans. But the joke is familiar, and Tim feels like a sense of normality returning to the room.

“Does your ‘someone’ love you?” Dick asks, and Tim inhales sharply.

“No.” Tim’s certain of it. He’s not sad about that – it’s just a fact. He quickly redirects Dick though, before he can comment on that, “so you loved Kori.”

“I did. I still do. We… grew apart. But she’ll always have a place in my heart.”

Tim doesn’t know the story there. He knows if he were to try he could figure it out. But it’s nobody's business except their own. He wouldn’t do that Dick or Kori.

Tim closes his eyes again, gripping his fingers into the couch. “So how did you know?”

He hears Dick sigh. “It’s not one thing Timbo. It was the way I wanted to be around Kori. The way I was almost always thinking of her. I’d be out and see things and I’d think ‘Kori would love that’ or I’d hear someone tell a joke and my first thought was ‘I need to tell Kori that one’. Slowly, Kori just… became one of the most important people to me.” Dick sighs again, “which doesn’t mean it was perfect, or that there weren’t issues still. We still fought over things. And Kori was a lot quicker to understand our love, and always more willing to say it. But we did. Love each other.”

He sounds so sentimental, that Tim opens his eyes to look over at Dick. He’s still staring at the TV, but Tim can tell he’s not watching that. He looks happier than Tim would have expected. Tim thinks of him and Steph, still friends, and he still loves Steph but he’s not sure it’s the same. They’ve always been better friends than they ever were at being in a relationship. There was so much  _ hurt  _ for so long with them.

His parents had always fought. They spent all their time travelling the world trying to get away from each other, and the monotony of  parenting Tim their lives – their relationship with each other. The only other person he has to look up to is Bruce; and he wouldn’t even know how to have a functioning relationship, let alone a romantic one.

“Was it worth it?” The words tumble out before Tim had even had tome to consider them. He snaps his mouth shut after them, but it’s too late.

Dick’s eyes snap from the TV to look at Tim, locking him in place with the intensity in his eyes.

“Always Timbo.”

* * *

 

A week in, and it’s obvious that Jason only drops by when no one else is over. 

If Tim had been hoping that the one upside of his injury would be Jason actually interacting with the family – and he kind of was hoping for it – he’s sorely disappointed. Disappointed, but not surprised.

He wonders if that should worry him. Jason must scope out the apartment before he makes his decision. He must occasionally see Tim with any of the others. He can’t find it in himself to be concerned. The boundaries blur within their own mismatched family – what is too much, what is overstepping the boundary. Tim also spent most of his pre-teen years stalking after Jason so he feels like he has no place to judge.

Jason likes to drop by after patrolling. It was their time before Tim got shot. They’d finish their patrols, meet up for food. Sometimes they ended up back at Tim’s apartment, sneaking around the camera’s to make their way up. Sometimes it was a seedy hotel where the cameras weren’t even functional. Jason’s taken him home to one of his safe houses four times. They both know that Tim knows the location of more of them – he knows better than to assume he knows them all. He knows about Jason’s house in the burbs too, but they don’t mention it. Jason needs his distance or at least the illusion of it, and Tim knows better than to push.

Jason’s the only one who drops by after patrol. He thinks the rest of the Batclan assume he’s taking advantage of the enforced time off to catch up on sleep. But after years of patrolling – first as Robin, then as Red Robin – Tim can’t even consider what it might be like to go to bed before 2am. He stays up instead, using the time to help with the others cases. He listens into the bat frequencies, and helps out Oracle occasionally – he knows she only does it to humour him, but he also hopes that it helps a little with her load; she works too hard.

He’s running an algorithm to track down the origin of a shell company. The company has been buying up land around the harbour, but they don’t know who’s behind it yet. But there are money transfers and email communication, and that’ll be enough for Tim to track it down – even if it is turning out to be harder than he’d anticipated. He’s just watching the trace though, his brain starting to wind down as he watches the screen. It’s only three am though – far too early for him to consider turning in yet.

His eyes are still drooping though – probably more from boredom than fatigue, when there’s a knock at the window. He shoots up from the computer immediately – the chair shooting backwards from Tim’s movement. He grabs the arm, dragging it back to the chair before walking over to the balcony, opening the full size glass door. Outside is cold – the December weather already chilling the air – especially up high in Tim’s apartment. There will be snow later – which will make the balcony uninhabitable. He blinks his eyes from the cold, and steps out onto the balcony - looking out to find Jason grinning at him, glowing cigarette held between his fingers.

Jason lifts the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply – the cigarette lights up brighter – the light of it bright against the darkness on the balcony. Jason drops the cigarette to the ground, grinding it out with his reinforced boot.

Tim rolls his eyes at him. “Do you have to do that here?” He asks exasperatedly. 

Jason shrugs, walking up to Tim, waiting in front of him. He smells like the cigarettes, but beneath that there’s gunpowder and he thinks he can smell gas as well. Tim wonders – not for the first time – if Jason smokes to mask the smells. 

Jason steps in close, stepping into Tim’s personal space – for a second Tim thinks Jason is stepping in to kiss him, but then he sidesteps, slipping past Tim to enter the room. Tim curses himself internally for the getting his hopes up; he’s pragmatic, not optimistic – he should know better.

Tim steps back inside – shutting the door behind him and closing out the cold. Jason drops his jacket on the couch and heads straight to the fridge. Since Jason’s been dropping by Tim makes sure to keep Jason’s beers in the fridge. Every time he purchases them he thinks he’s being stupid – should just make Jason bring his own or drink tea. But when Jason opens the beer against the kitchen bench – he has a bottle opener in the drawer dammit but Jason refuses to use it – and then settles comfortably on the couch Tim thinks he definitely made the right move. Besides he chugs red bulls like he needs it to live – he  _ might _ – so he’s in no place to judge Jason’s life choices.

The computer is fine running the programs on its own. There’s not a lot he can do from now till it's done anyway, so he takes the opposite end of the couch from Jason, sitting down. Jason lounges across the cushions, spreading his legs out and laying an arm on the back of the couch. It doesn’t matter where Jason is – he always takes up space. Tim thinks it’s because the larger than life presence that Jason is tries to exert itself on his surroundings – the result is that Jason always takes up space – Jason is always a  _ presence _ in the room.

Jason lifts the glass bottle to his lips, taking a long swig of the liquid, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. Tim looks away.

Jason hasn’t made any move toward Tim since the attack – but then Tim hasn’t made any move either. It’s like they’re stuck in limbo. Jason tiptoes around Tim – but Tim has always tiptoed around Jason so there’s nothing new there.

But Jason has never tiptoed around Tim. Jason’s shot and stabbed Tim and thrown him off buildings and despite all of that Tim never stopped following after him in a way.

It got better with time – where once there were stabbing now there were slaps. Where once there were shootings now Jason had his back. Jason’s saved his life too many times to count – although Tim has definitely had Jason’s back just as many times. Tim’s taken out attackers and stitched up wounds and they’ve done all that so  _ why are they tiptoeing around each other now? _

“How was patrol?” Tim asks – instead of saying any of that, instead of asking why Jason is sitting all the way on the opposite of the couch, why they’re sitting in silence.

“Busy. Holidays always bring out the best in people,” Jason replies sarcastically – but there’s a hint of bitterness underneath the words. Jason glares at his drink in his hand – but he doesn’t take a sip.

“Fun times.” Tim agrees.

Jason hums in response, taking another sip of his drink. 

The silences lapses again, Jason staring at the blank television. Tim wonders if he should turn it on. the only noise in the apartment is the hum of the heater and the computer – maybe the noise would help – might give them something to talk about. Or something to distract them further from actually talking.

“Do you have plans for the holidays?” TIm asks.

Jason huffs a laugh. “And who would I have plans with Timbo?”

There are people – Roy or Kori for one. Babs is another – Tim knows they keep in touch. There are undoubtedly others. Alfred has certainly extended the invite to Jason. If anyone could get Jason to come along it’s Alfred. He doesn’t think that’s why Jason isn’t going though – the words –  _ holidays bring out the best of people _ still ring in his ears. Jason grew up in one of those households where  _ holidays bring out the best in people _ . It happens in all households – it’s not something that’s separated by Gotham’s regions, or socioeconomic class. But from everything Tim’s ever heard Willis Todd was a real piece of work. 

So Tim thinks that yeah – holiday season may have been pretty trash in the Todd household. 

Not that holiday season in the Drake household was all flowers and sunshine.

Tim knows he should drop it, leave the conversation while it’s still in a friendly zone.

But he’s had enough of leaving things be. “Did you get an invite to the Manor?” 

Jason scowls, and take another sip of his previously forgotten beer. “Yes.”

“Are you planning to go?”

“No.”

Predictable. 

“Well I am.”

“Good for you Timmy.”

Tim sighs deeply, trying to keep his temper under control as he says the next words, “I think you should consider coming. They’d love to see you – we’d love to see you there.”  _ I’d love to see you there _ he doesn’t say. He already regrets using the word  _ love _ .

He can see the scowl on Jason’s face. He’s sending Tim’s poor innocent TV a death stare – which is hardly fair, the TV isn’t the one who’s pissed Jason off. That’s all on Tim. Jason doesn’t like talking about Bruce, or the manor, or family, or feelings and Tim’s pretty much hit them all on the head. Well, at least he didn’t bring up clowns.

“How about we watch a movie?” Tim says when the silence has grown to something huge, something filling the air with the tension between them. Tim feels like he needs to diffuse the situation. Jason is an IED right now and Tim might have bomb training but every bomb is different, and he might cut the right wire and save the day or he might just be the thing which triggers the explosion.

He can see Jason consider it, sees him chew on the corner of his cheek for a moment, eyes not moving from the screen.

“Sure,” Jason agrees after a moment that feels like it stretches out or hours, “your choice.”

Just like that, the bomb is defused. There’s still a tension in the air, and Jason gripes and complains about the movie the whole time they watch it. But he’s also smiling when he does so. It’s enough, Tim thinks, that Jason did this with him. It’s nice to spend time together without any other motivation in sight, just to spend time with each other.

_ This _ , Tim thinks, this warm feeling he gets through him at seeing Jason here, seeing him happy, seeing him comfortable. This is what it is for him.

* * *

 

When Jason walks through the Manor door on Christmas Eve Tim almost falls off his chair. He’s late of course. Fashionably late, or just logistically late enough to miss having to stand around and make conversation. Still – it’s something. Tim drags him out to the Balcony when dinner is finished with the excuse “I need to talk to you”. Tim leans back against the wall and tries to ignore the worried face on Jason’s face as he leans on the balustrade opposite Tim.

“I think I love you.” He blurts. Best to rip the bandaid off.

“You think?” Jason asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay. I know. I have examined it from all possible angles, and have come to the conclusion that I, Timothy Jackson Drake, love you Jason Peter Todd.”

“There’s my Tim,” Jason says, and somehow those words make him flush then his own confession, he can feel his cheeks burning from the words – there’s  _ my Tim _ – “well that’s official Timbo.”

“It is,” Tim agrees quickly, “I’m not telling you so that you feel any pressure, I don’t need you to say it back. That’s not – that’s not what I’m going for here. It’s just the truth. And you deserve to know.”

“Thanks.” Jason says, “I –”

“You don’t have to say it back.” Tim blurts out quickly. “I’m not – that isn’t why I said it. I just. I worked out. I wanted to let you know. That’s how it is. For me.”

“Thanks,” Jason repeats. Jason moves to rest against the wall next to Tim, and there’s plenty of space, it’s a big balcony, so there can be only one reason why Jason pushes up next to him, pressing his arm into Tim’s own. Jason’s fingers bump against his own, before Jason grasps his own hand, interlacing his fingers.

It’s cold out, and Tim can see his breath fogging in front of him. “Merry Christmas,” Tim whispers. 

Jason doesn’t release his hand as he moves to press his body against Tim’s covering him completely and shielding Tim from the wind. Jason’s free hand comes up to Tim’s jaw, tipping it up before Jason’s lips press gently against his own.

It’s soft, it’s warm, and it’s  _ perfect _ . There’s no place Tim would rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Comments and Kudos give me life  
> Find me at tumblr at [candybarrnerd](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/candybarrnerd)


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